The World's Clumsiest Bride
by Cats070911
Summary: This is a special story for a fan who is tying the knot this week, so if Barbara seems a little clumsier than normal, she is just channeling 'the bride', who incidentally is also the most sex-crazed person I know. But no, there is not an M-rated version of this, just use your imaginations. Warning: this story contains hilarity.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply.

This is a special story for a fan who is tying the knot this week, so if Barbara seems a little clumsier than normal, she is just channeling 'the bride', who incidentally is also the most sex-crazed person I know. But no, there is not an M-rated version of this, just use your imaginations.

* * *

As Tommy entered Howenstowe's library, he was puzzled to find his mother pacing up and down in front of the fire.

"Have you seen Barbara?"

"I think she is outside."

"In this weather?" He looked out the window at the falling snow. He turned to study his mother. He narrowed his eyes. "Why? What did you say to her?"

His mother shrugged. "I... was being inclusive."

Tommy grabbed her arm. "What did you do?"

"Nothing bad. She was very calm, but I think she may have been a tad upset."

Tommy let go of his mother, partially pushing her away. Hurrying to the front door, he debated where she might have gone. He jogged around the house looking for her, but she had vanished. He was heading back to find his phone when he spotted tracks in the snow. He followed them to the stables.

"Barbara," he called as he entered. There was no reply. "I know you're in here."

"I'll be out soon."

His heart quickened when he heard the quiver in her voice. Tommy walked down the row of stall past the three horses currently stable there to where she sat on some hay bales. "You okay?"

She looked up. Her eyes were red and swollen. She nodded. "Suppose."

"You've been crying. I will murder that woman."

Barbara put her hand on his arm. "No, don't blame her. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tommy hesitated. "Tell you what?"

"About you and your mother and Trenarrow."

"Ah... that."

"Yes, ah that."

Tommy sat on the hay beside her. "It was a long time ago, and we resolved it. I didn't think it made any difference to you and me."

"We're getting married next week, and you didn't think that a major issue like that might be good to mention?"

"Don't be mad at me, please. I... didn't want you thinking I was... still hung up on it."

"I'm not mad at you. Not really. But..."

"But you are mad aren't you?"

"No. I don't know. Forgot it."

She stood and pushed past him. He reached out and took her hand, refusing to let go when she tried to shake free. "No. Let's talk about it now. I didn't tell you because when I told Helen she lost respect for me."

Barbara stopped struggling at wiped new tears from her eyes before moving closer and nuzzling him to her chest. Tommy hugged her back and felt the last of his barriers dissolve.

"I'm not Helen. I was crying because you must have been so alone, and scared, and with your dad on his death bed, and... that must had been horrible. It's no wonder you reacted as you did."

"I should have stopped and thought it through."

"You were what, seventeen? It wasn't up to you to be the adult, Tommy. I haven't lost respect for you. For your mother maybe, but not you."

He smiled. "Always in my side, eh?"

"Isn't that what it's about? Supporting each other? But I can still tell you when you're an idiot."

"I love you."

She frowned. "I should hope so or we just wasted a hellava lot of money on a party."

Tommy stroked her face, then kissed her.

* * *

"You have straw in your hair," Tommy said as they rushed back to the house an hour later.

"I have some in my undies too." Barbara tried to push her hand down her jeans to retrieve it. "I should have a shower. I can't go to the final dress fitting smelling of..."

"Sex?"

"I was going to say horses, but yeah, that too."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"About smelling like a horse?"

He patted her bottom as they entered the house. "No, about not taking precautions."

"We're being married in six days. We're almost legal if something happened. We won't bring shame on your family name."

"I'm not worried about that. Children should be a mutual decision, not me being too impatient to wait."

"And I was protesting was I?" she asked as they climbed the stairs to their room.

"No, not at all, but..."

"Well, your penance can be washing my back as I shower. The straw's made it itchy."

"If I do that, you'll be late for your fitting."

"Promise?"

Tommy stopped her at the door to the en-suite. "I... I don't want to go back to... precautions. Not after... I don't want that barrier between us ever again."

"Me either." She nodded then reached up and whispered in his ear.

"Oh, oh yes, I most definitely want that," he replied before kissing her as they hastily disrobed.

* * *

Barbara allowed Tommy to drive her into Nanrunnel for her fitting, but she insisted he wait for her in the pub.

"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride's outfit before the day."

"I wouldn't mind if you walked up the aisle naked."

"You might not, but that old vicar would have a heart attack. And can you imagine your mother?"

They shared a laugh and a kiss before she hopped out. She waited until he started to drive off before waving then going in to the dressmaker's small shop. Judith had taken her to an exclusive bridal shop in Knightsbridge several weeks ago, and had insisted she try on every dress in the shop, but Barbara had not been able to decide. Everything was too fluffy, too lacy or too revealing. She had left confused and distraught. That night, Tommy had suggested Mrs Tweedlesmith in Nanrunnel. He assured her that Old Mary, as she was affectionately known by the locals, would make something perfect for her.

"I'm not sure," she said to Mary as she stood in front of the long mirror. "I had thought a nice fitted suit, not a bridal gown."

The rotund woman laughed as she tried to still Barbara's swinging hips long enough to pin the waist. "You only marry an earl once. You have to look the part. Now where are your shoes? We can't ensure the length is right without the shoes."

Barbara padded across the room to her bag. She pulled out a shoebox and held up two strappy black sandals with narrow stiletto heels. "And these are way too high. I will probably tread on Tommy's foot and pin him to the ground."

Old Mary laughed. "Where did you find those old things?"

"I've had them since my teens. Only worn them once."

"You can't wear black shoes with a wedding dress."

"Why not? No one will see them under the dress."

"Ms Havers, I will not permit it. And they are too tall for the dress."

"Tommy's 6'1" and I'm only 5'5". I thought these would help even us up."

"He knows how tall you are. You don't need to wear a pair of deadly weapons. Do you walk a lot in heels?"

"Never. They make me fall forward. I feel as if I'm a Nordic ski jumper."

"A what?"

Barbara leant forward and put her arms out behind her. "One of those people that hurtle down those ski ramps at high speed. I'd be the one flying through the air then falling flat on my face. I know you're supposed to glide gracefully in heels, but I kinda slide and pray."

Mary shook her head then held her hand out waiting for Barbara to hand them to her. "No heels."

Barbara raised her eyes then handed them over. "So barefoot is better? Certainly easier to walk."

"Sensible ivory court shoes is what we need."

"What about ivory runners?"

The woman tutted and went to a cupboard. "Size 7?"

Barbara nodded. "Let me guess, you have a pair?"

"I keep test pairs for dress fittings. You'd be amazed how many brides forget to bring their shoes. Mr Mitchell at Nanrunnel Shoes will be able to get a pair here in time."

Barbara let Old Mary help her on with the shoes. With a moderate heel that was thick enough to support her weight, Barbara felt more comfortable, but stared at the ornate gown. The mass of ivory brocaded silk seemed to dwarf her, even with shoes on to help it flow. "Maybe it's the train? Do you think it's too much?"

Mary tutted. "Hold still and no, it's not too much. Let me put on your veil."

Barbara turned to look at the back side, but lost her balance and took a few tottering steps. Both women heard an ominous rip as Barbara trod on the train. "Whoops."

"Stand perfectly still while I see what damage you've done."

Barbara looked at the mirror. "Mutton dressed up as lamb."

"Rubbish."

"Do you have something simpler?"

"Not unless you want to delay your wedding by a week."

Barbara frowned. "Don't tempt me. Maybe it's a mistake?"

"It's not a mistake. I've lived here all my life and I've never seen the family as happy. Just accept it and hold still. You're moving around like a bag of ferrets."

Barbara sighed. "Really?"

"Yes. If you don't stop wriggling, I might prick you and get blood on your dress. Do you know how hard that is to remove?"

"I've seen enough crime scenes to have an idea."

Mary stopped and the two women stared at each other in the mirror before bursting into laughter. Then Barbara bit her lip. "I meant are you sure they are happier?"

"Positive. Now stop mov...ing. Oh dear."

Turning to look at the seamstress, Barbara had lost her balance and tumbled backwards. She sat on the floor with her legs out in front of her, her long train behind her and the ring of her veil resting on one ear.

"Okay, Ms Havers, you have convinced me. Time for Plan B."

* * *

Tommy did not wait in the pub as instructed. He parked by the pub and doubled back to the jeweller. Judith had told him that she had, in line with his wishes, persuaded Barbara to dress in ivory rather than navy as she had planned. Tommy had arranged for three of the most precious family gems to be arranged into a setting for her. He had also plotted with the minister to create a spot in the vows where he could present it to her and pin it on her outfit.

"Afternoon, Bill. How's the setting going?"

A deathly thin elderly man looked up from the watch he was stopped over. "Good afternoon, M'Lord. I'm very happy with it. Your bride will love it. At least I hope so or she might use a London jeweller in future."

Tommy laughed. "Barbara is not really a jewellery person, but I will ensure you business with us is safe."

The jeweller took off his magnifying glasses before fetching a box from the back room. He opened it carefully and stood holding his breath. Tommy smiled. "It's perfect. Thank you so much."

He paid and slipped the box into the inner pocket of his jacket.

* * *

They met at the pub. Tommy beamed at her as she walked in. "How did it go?"

"Not well. I fell and... it was a disaster." Barbara sat on the bench beside him and buried her face into his shoulder.

He put his arm around her. "It couldn't have been that bad."

"Old Mary is very patient, but she was pleased to see me go."

"And the outfit?"

"Undergoing modifications."

Tommy laughed. "Mary is a miracle worker. I bought an expensive tux in London once but when I got here I discovered the sleeves were different lengths. She fixed it in twenty minutes before I had to host a major function for local dignitaries. If she can't fix it, it's beyond help."

"I'm not graceful enough to be your wife."

He pulled her closer. "Is there a scale?"

"Yeah, and I'm not on it."

"To me, you are off the scale."

She looked up. "That's what I meant. Not an ounce of grace."

"No, I don't care about how gracefully you walk. I meant as a person. You are the kindest, most loving person in the world, and..." He leant close to her ear. "Incredible in bed. Or on a haystack. Or in a show..."

Barbara punched his arm. They shared a loving look before a very passionate kiss oblivious to the whistled encouragement of the locals.

* * *

In a couple of days, you can read about their wedding day...


	2. Chapter 2

Barbara sat on the edge of the bed watching Tommy sleep.

"Why are you watching me?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"Just trying to determine if this is real, or some fantasy that I will wake up from when the phone rings and you on the other end telling me there has been a grisly murder in Whitechapel."

He groaned and rolled onto his back and opened his arms. "Come here. They didn't have phones when Jack the Ripper was around."

"Jack the...? Oh. hardy-ha-ha." She nestled against him. "I'm scared it will all go wrong."

Tommy stroked her face. "The wedding or the marriage?"

"I hadn't even thought about the marriage. I was thinking about the ceremony, and me in my ridiculously unsuited dress and all the things that could go wrong."

"Well, if it helps, I dreamt that a stray dog got into the chapel and bit Mother on the ankle as we were exchanging our vows."

"See. Something will go wrong, we both feel it. Did it have rabies?"

Tommy laughed then pulled her closer and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I didn't do a veterinary check, but it probably would after it bit her."

Barbara poked her finger in his chest. "Tommy. You can't say that. Oh, hell." Barbara leapt out of bed.

"Where are you going? Don't leave me."

"Bathroom."

Barbara raced into the room and barely made it to the toilet. Her stomach clenched and colicky cramps wracked her belly. "Ooooh..."

Tommy knocked on the ensuite door. "Are you alright? Is it morning sickness?"

Barbara frowned. Tommy sounded oddly happy about the prospect. "No, that starts about six weeks, not six days. I must have eaten something that didn't agreeeeee, ooooh, sorry, with me."

"Can I get you anything? Will you be right by tomorrow?"

"I hope so. Just... give me a few minutes."

"Call me if you need me."

Barbara shook her fist at the door. Couldn't he just leave her in peace for a minute? "Good-o, ta." The pain gripped her again. "Go down and have breakfast, I'll be down shortly."

* * *

"Where's Barbara?" Dorothy asked as Tommy entered the dining room for breakfast.

"Tummy upset. She'll be down shortly. I hope she'll be okay. I might call Dr Black if she is still unwell."

"That's wise."

They chatted over toast and coffee as they shared different sections of a London newspaper. Tommy glanced at his watch. "I'm going up to see if she's alright."

His mother nodded. "It's probably just nerves, but better an empty house than a bad tenant."

"Thank you for that image." Tommy raced up the stairs. He found Barbara sitting on the bed massaging her knee. "Are you alright?"

"No!"

"Should I call Dr Black?"

"I think I need an x-ray."

"For a tummyache?"

"No, my knee. I... slipped."

"Slipped where?"

"In the bathroom. I twisted my knee."

Tommy was unsure how anyone could slip in his relatively small ensuite. It was the curse of old houses that most retrofitted bathrooms were minuscule. "How did you manage that?"

"Don't ask."

He raised his eyebrows. "Barbara?"

"I ran out of toilet paper so I reached across to the cupboard to get more from under the sink, and I... fell off the toilet."

His eyes went wide and his eyebrows curled upwards in a similar shape to his twitching mouth. "You fell off the loo?"

"Yes, I fell off the loo. Fortunately, the extra toilet paper was only a precaution. I didn't make a mess, if that's what you're thinking."

Tommy could not hold back his laughter. "I'm sorry, my love, but I have this image..." His laugher became heartier. "Whoosh... hehehehe... you went for a whooosh, and then whooosh."

Barbara threw a pillow at him. "Oh, shut up."

"Whoosh." he pushed his hands out in a sliding gesture. "Whoosh"

Barbara grabbed his dressing gown cord and tugged. It fell open to reveal him in his boxers. She eyed him up and down. "Hmmm."

Tommy pushed the lock of hair from his left eye. "Maybe we should share the shower so that I can keep you safe."

* * *

The x-ray revealed no breaks, but a scan showed she has a small tear in a ligament. The doctor had suggested a week's rest. When he found out she was being married the next day, he gave her anti-inflammatories, anti-diarrheals, anti-biotics in case her tummy upset was more serious, a set of crutches and a brace for her knee for the ceremony.

Tommy helped her into the car and put the crutches on the back seat. "Weren't you going into town to pick up your dress and shoes today?"

She nodded. "Yeah, can we stop on the way?"

He shook his head. "No, you are going home to rest. I will sort it out."

"I have to try the dress on again to see the modifications are okay."

"Old Mary knows what she is doing. It's too late to change it anyway. You are going to bed. I will ring her and sort it all out."

Barbara sighed. Things were going from bad to worse.

* * *

Barbara stood with her hands on her hips. "But's it's your room. I should be the one going to the spare room." Tommy had insisted that they spend the night apart, fearing bad luck if they saw each other before the wedding. "It's superstitious nonsense anyway."

"I'm not taking any chances," he replied bluntly, "besides with your knee, you need rest and elevation of your leg on some pillows. We will both get more sleep in separate beds."

She groaned. That argument made sense. "Can you stay until midnight?"

He looked at his watch. "I'll stay until ten."

When Barbara woke, it was almost one o'clock and Tommy was gone. They had fallen asleep after some very gentle lovemaking and strategic use of her extra pillows which he must have rearranged to protect her knee before he left. Barbara closed her eyes and smiled. She had never imagined Tommy would be such an attentive and talented lover. She had thought of him as being a little prudish. Even more surprising was her discovery that she was adventurous and even a little kinky in the cot. They were well-matched, and she hoped that never died. The bride rolled on her side and snuggled into the pillow where a faint scent of him remained.

* * *

Old Mary took one look at her knee and sighed. It was about 1.5 times its usual size. "Can you put weight on it?"

"It hurts to stand without crutches but I will look a goose with them."

"You'd look more of a goose if you fell. I think we need Plan C."

The woman dashed out of the room. Barbara sat on the bed and thought hard about crying. The only thing stopping her was the memory of the time she had been the third bridesmaid for Martha Slade. Everyone had been crying, mainly from joy, but the wedding photos caught their flaming red eyes, making them look like zombies. "Bloody hell."

Dorothy coughed at the doorway. "Are you okay?"

Barbara shook her head. "Aren't you supposed to be happy on your wedding day? I'm ruining everything."

"Most brides say they are nervous rather than happy. Nothing is ruined."

"I'll look a right idiot limping up the aisle on crutches."

"Tommy wouldn't care if you crawled up the aisle as long as you marry him."

"I love him."

Dorothy frowned then took her hand. "That's never been in doubt. Not since the first time I saw you together."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Not at all. Least of all to Tommy, but I also saw how much he loved you. I wish now I had told him but he wouldn't have listened to me. He understands love now. Everything will be fine."

"Thank you. I guess at least it will be a story to tell to our grandchildren."

Old Mary burst into the room like a whirling dervish. "Eureka!"

Dorothy jumped then turned. "Have you struck gold, Mary?"

The elderly woman wagged her finger at her. "Better, Lady Asherton, much better."

* * *

If Tommy expected anything about his marriage to be conventional, it had been the service, but it was promising to be anything but usual. After he had seen Dr Black arrived and be ushered up to Barbara, he had sent his best man to find out what was going on.

"Well?" he demanded when Peter returned from speaking to their mother.

"Mother says everything is fine. There will need to be a few modifications, but Old Mary has a plan. Apparently."

"Oh, good lord." Tommy raked his fingers slowly through his hair. "Why didn't I follow Barbara's suggestion and elope?"

"We're going to follow the plan. We'll drive into the village and get changed in the pub, have a pint then saunter up to the church. Mother, Old Mary and Winston will get Barbara there on time, or near enough."

"Where is Winston?"

"With Mr Mitchell apparently. Maybe he forgot his shoes. He's due here in half an hour. Now come on. Barbara will be fine."

"She will turn up, won't she?"

Peter slapped his brother on his back. "Yes, nothing surer. Now get your things and let's go."

* * *

After insisting that she could shower without assistance, Barbara sat very still while a stranger from the village applied makeup. She had agreed to a minimal amount only. "If I look like an off watch whore, I'm washing it off she had warned."

She checked the mirror and stared. The woman was an artist. "I almost look beautiful."

"You are beautiful," Dorothy chided. "Now, let's get you into that dress."

"I thought it might look like Donald Duck's bum, but it doesn't really," Barbara said as she looked at the dress in the mirror. Old Mary's Plan B had been to stiffen the train with heavy cord and rattan so that it sat perfectly in position about an inch above the ground. In sensible court shoes, it would have been perfect.

The woman raised her eyebrow and stared then said slowly, "my dresses never look like the bum of any animal, let alone a cartoony bum."

"Sorry," Barbara mumbled contritely, fearing that she had offended the woman, "I wasn't maligning your skills."

"Oh, I know that love." Mary's mood had shifted 180°. "Now are you sure you can bend your knee?"

"A bit. Dr Black did a good job strapping it. It's better than that brace."

"Good. Let's put on your shoes."

"I don't think I can manage shoes."

The seamstress tutted. "Nonsense. Ta-dar! Look what the shoe fairy brought you."

Barbara stared. Mary had found a pair of runners in identical material to her dress. "How?"

"Mr Mitchell helped. We converted a pair of runners by gluing on patches of your organza on the shoes. They don't look half bad, even if I praise meself."

"Oh, thank you. At least I feel more comfortable in these. Less likely to trip over thin air."

"Oh, I'm sure you can still find a way to to that, Ms Havers. Now we'll take it very slowly down the stairs. You lean on Lady A, and I'll manage the dress."

After a tortuous five minutes, they stopped in the hallway to gather their breath. "How will I fit into the bridal car with this train?"

Old Mary grimaced. "I improvised. Lady A has lent you her, err... vehicle. See?"

Barbara looked out of the door. Winston was standing sheepishly in front of the vehicle. "You can't be serious? No! Absolutely not."

* * *

P.S. Barbara's accident bears no similarity whatsoever to my actions and knee problems of a few months ago. None at all. I mean who falls off toilets? ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Barbara stood with her hands on her hips, A glower befitting Queen Victoria furrowed her brow.

"Don't scowl. It will ruin your make-up," Dorothy implored her.

With a swipe of her arm, Havers brushed away the makeup lady as she tried to pat her face with a soft pad. "I am not going to my wedding in a horse float."

Winston shrugged then came and gave her a hug. "Better that than not getting married. Now come on, think of it as a carriage."

"No."

Winston grinned at her then moved onto the ramp and held up a carrot he had hidden in his jacket. "Come on, Barbara, be a good sport. Tommy is waiting."

"You'll keep Winston Nkata. Why did I ask you to escort me?"

"I think the words were 'I'm not having anyone give me away like some old toy, but I need a friend to be beside me.' Well, I am your friend, and I am beside you. Come on, you know how the DI hates to be kept waiting."

Barbara sighed, leant on her crutches and limped up the ramp. This wedding was getting to be a farce, but with everything happening now, she hoped the ceremony would go smoothly.

* * *

Peter's phone rang as they entered the church. "Mother?... ah, okay that sounds intriguing. Oh, I'm sure it took a lot of persuasion. I'll tell Tommy."

The nervous earl grasped his brother's wrist in a death grip. "She's changed her mind, and she's not coming, is she?"

Peter uncurled Tommy's fingers. "Mother simply said to get inside the church because the horse float just left."

"Horse float?"

Peter shrugged. "No idea, but it sounds like your bride is on her way."

* * *

Barbara held on to the rail at the rear of the box and watched the world sweep past her. The fields were covered in a fluffy white blanket, and the trees looked like they were inside a child's snow dome. Despite everything, when she thought of a life with Tommy, she was at peace. The ceremony was only a symbol. It was their life together that counted. When they slowed coming into the village, Barbara took a deep breath.

"It's now or never," she told Winston. He patted her arm and straightened the small tiara Dorothy had leant her to keep the small strip of netting on her head. "Old Mary was wise to abandon a proper veil and go for a traditional suggestion', but arriving in this, I wish I was wearing a hood."

He laughed as he helped her down the ramp. "It's not that bad. Now hang on to me. That's it."

Old Mary climbed out of the car behind. A third car pulled up and Dorothy alighted. She had changed into a lovely burgundy dress befitting the mother of the groom. She came up and kissed Barbara on the cheek. "I'll see you inside. Everything will be fine."

Barbara nodded. She jumped and grabbed her chest when Old Mary put her fingers to her lips and whistled. "What on earth?"

"You're not going up the aisle in crutches."

Barbara turned around. Four enormous blonde men in beautifully tailored morning suits complete with grey top hats stood in front of her. "What's going on?"

Before Old Mary could answer, Mr Mitchell ran up. Two more men, dressed in ordinary clothes followed him. "The museum was very generous," he panted. "I added a cushion from your shop, Mary."

The seamstress clapped her hands. Her smile was so wide, Barbara could see a gap where she was missing a molar. With more than a little trepidation, Barbara turned to see the men hurrying up the street with a seat attached to four poles. "What the hell is that?"

Mr Mitchell tilted his head as if Barbara was from an alien world. "A sedan chair that the 3rd Earl of Asherton used in India. He had bad gout, and the weather played him up fearfully."

She turned to Winston. "Can this day get any weirder?"

He shook his head. "Don't tempt fate."

* * *

After hearing whistling and shouting outside, Tommy sent Peter to see what was happening. He returned with their mother and a huge grin and took his place beside his anxious brother. "Don't worry, your lady is about to make a very grand entrance."

Tommy frowned. "Barbara will hate being on crutches."

"Oh dear brother, just wait."

* * *

With the chair on the ground, the men lifted Barbara onto it, making sure her train hung freely out the back and the front of her gown covered her wedding runners. The suited men chatted to her as they fussed reassuring her how much weight they could each bench press. Barbara doubted they she weighed anything close to their limits, but she was hesitant to find out if a bench press equated to a chair lift.

"How did you manage all this?" Barbara asked Old Mary as the woman thrust a small bouquet into her hand.

"Tim, my grandson, got married last year. These are his grooms. They all row for the Nanrunnel lifesavers, so they won't drop you, and if they do, they are all trained in First Aid." The woman gently punched her arm. "I was joking. You're in good hands. Now where is Jimmy?"

A young bespectacled boy in grey shorts, a maroon school jacket and cap came up to them. "Here. Mum sent me up."

"Good boy and don't you look smart."

The boy blushed and look at the ground. "Anything in particular?"

The old lady bent down and whispered in his ear. Jimmy smiled. "Right you are. That's easy. We practised that a lot last term at St Michael's."

"Now what?" Barbara hissed at Winston.

"No idea. Just ride with it and enjoy the day."

* * *

Tommy saw Jimmy Trethanow race into the church at full speed, skid on the tiles then dash behind the curtain that led to the bell tower. He assumed he was looking for Mrs Poldeames who had been entertaining them with calming old hymns and Cornwall folk songs played on the church's 48 pipe organ. Old Mary followed Jimmy in and gave Tommy a double thumbs-up before thumping down on a pew that groaned audibly under her weight.

The organist began to play 'Hear Comes the Bride', something Barbara had specifically asked her not to play. Tommy grimaced thinking about how annoyed she would be. "I am not fair, nor fat or particularly wide, and I don't want people thinking, even subconsciously," she had told the organist only two days before. He adjusted his jacket and watched the door. The organist morphed seamlessly into Cohen's 'Hallelujah', before fading away.

Lynley jumped, as did most of the guests, as the sound of a trumpet reverberated around the old stone church just as Winston and two of Fisherman Jack's boys appeared in the doorway. Tommy craned his neck to see what was happening. The congregation began to clap as Winston began to walk down the aisle. Tommy panicked fearing his bride had changed her mind. That fear abated when he saw his constable throwing rose petals. "What the...?"

Peter nudged him in the ribs. "Your queen is coming."

Tommy looked up. His mouth moved, but no words came. Barbara was floating down the aisle in the centre of four Adonis'.

* * *

Barbara saw the look on Tommy's face. He was awestruck. She beamed at him, unable to hide her bemusement at the whole situation. Their guests were smiling and laughing, so she hammed it up a little. She raised her hand and gave them a royal wave. As she turned to wave to the other side, she forgot about her bouquet. It began to fall. She grabbed for it, lost her balance and started to slide backwards. With her arms flailing, her legs went high in the air. Without losing a stride, two firm hands held her on the chair and gently pushed her back into the correct position. Any attempt a propriety was lost as the church erupted in raucous laughter.

Her courtiers lowered the sedan and helped the bride to her feet. Winston took her arm and led her to Tommy who bowed, then took her other arm. He leant down and gave her a quick and unrehearsed kiss. "We nearly lost you."

"Not a word."

Tommy frowned then picked something out of her hair. "You had a bit of straw."

"Not another word. And before you say it, the scent is Eau de Clydesdale."

"Shhh," the vicar warned them, before he put his hand up and turned away. "Eau de Clydesdale, arghahahaha."

Tommy nudged her. "I have never loved you more."

"Good, then let's get on with it, before I knock over the candles and set the church alight." She looked up and winked.

* * *

Barbara flicked on the television while Tommy opened the French doors leading onto the balcony of their villa. With a clear view of the azure waters of the Aegean, it was heavenly. She leant back in the sofa and found BBC World which was broadcasting its breakfast show. After a cute piece about a labrador that saved its owner from drowning, her mouth fell open.

_In a small church in Cornwall yesterday, Lord Asherton, who is incidentally one of the Met's top detectives, married his long-term police partner, Barbara Havers. While you might think society weddings are boring, check out this footage which _has been_ viewed over 500,000 times..._

"Tommy, we've gone viral."

"What?" He rushed inside and stared at the television.

_In an unconventional move, the bride wore sneakers that matched her dress, but wait for it... yes, there, she nearly fell off her seat. _Whoopsie_! _

They watched with mouths gaping as Barbara tumbled backwards and was pushed up again. "Who filmed it?" Tommy asked.

Barbare shrugged. "Oh, god, how embarrassing. What will your friends think?"

He sat on the edge of the sofa and put his arm around her shoulder. "That I have the most wonderful wife who is unafraid to be herself."

_We interviewed Old Mary, who rescued the show when the bride badly sprained her knee in a bathroom accident._ Old Mary appeared on the screen with Mr Mitchell. "Barbara fell off the loo, and well, I had to improvise. I couldn't have done it without Mr Mitchell, he owns the shoe store."

"What?" Barbara put her head in her hands. "Now the whole world knows." The tender kiss Tommy placed on her head consoled her, but not enough to ameliorate her mortification.

They watched as Mr Mitchell put his arm around Old Mary and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "We have patented the shoe design after hashtag bridalsneakers topped social media last night. Mary and I are hoping to turn it into a new enterprise for our little village."

"The sly old dog," Tommy said, "I never knew they were together. I mean they've been friends for years, but... seems I'm not the only fool to wait too long."

Barbara squeezed his knee. "Better late than never."

_So, it looks like the love story of the clumsiest bride in the world will have a happy ending for the village of _Nanrunnel_, and we hope for the bride and groom. Wherever they are in the world at the moment, good luck, Lord and Lady Asherton. If your wedding is any _indication_, your life together will be very entertaining. _

Tommy stroked her face. "Shall we start with some entertainment of our own before we venture out?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Best wishes to my friend and her groom on their special day tomorrow. I hope everything goes much more smoothly.


End file.
